


To You, I'm a Ghost

by Phoenix_Soar



Category: Shinhwa
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Angst and Feels, Friendship/Love, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-03
Updated: 2015-05-03
Packaged: 2018-03-28 20:49:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3869308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phoenix_Soar/pseuds/Phoenix_Soar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The feeling of a familiar presence by your shoulder, like the haunting melody of a song once heard long ago...</p>
            </blockquote>





	To You, I'm a Ghost

**Author's Note:**

> My entry for the Shinhwa 16th Anniversary One-Shots @ AFF. This fic was inspired by the quote "To you, I'm a ghost" from the lyrics of a song I don't remember anymore.
> 
> The artwork for this fic was created by the lovely makkana_ai @ AFF.
> 
> Written in 2014, and originally posted at LJ and AFF.

The stranger sneaks into his life without a word, without notice. An Autumn morning dawns bright and crisp and he is suddenly just there, sitting at the very back of the Theory of Music lecture hall, back hunched and eyes watching. He has nothing else with him, no books, no bag; just himself and the worn clothes on his back.  
  
There are no announcements of a new student joining them, no new name called out by their professor at the end of the lecture; not even whispers of gossip concerning the new face.   
  
No wonder Andy Lee does not notice the stranger's presence at all. He listens attentively, takes notes religiously, occasionally tears himself away from the lesson to chuckle at Minwoo harassing the rest of his friends, and leaves the room as soon as the lecture is over. He does not look back, does not see the dark eyes staring after his retreating figure.  
  
The stranger sits still while the room empties around him, looking to be frozen, almost dead.   
  
No one pays any attention to him. 

~***~

The next time, Andy senses his presence.  
  
Or rather, he senses that he is being watched.  
  
He is out in the middle of campus, lazing against a tree of red and gold while struggling to make sense of the million and one books on Beethoven he has checked out of the library for his new assignment. The sun is warm despite the Autumn coolness in the air, and it beats down on the grassy turf. There are people milling all around, filling the air with chatter and laughter and the distant sound of brass instruments.  
  
It is a cheerful everyday sight. Not the kind of place you expect to feel an abrupt drop in temperature, to sense a change in the wind ... or eyes boring a hole right through you.  
  
The sound of voices suddenly fades around him, leaving a ringing silence in their wake. Something approaches him, quick and quiet. The feeling sends a wicked shiver down his spine, chilling his very blood. His fingers dig into the book in his hands and, for a moment, Andy cannot move, as if a physical sensation is holding him down.  
  
For a mere second, he thinks he feels warm breath down his neck. Goosebumps erupt in its wake.  
  
Then it disappears, the atmosphere is warm and bright again and his ears fill with voices and distant saxophones.   
  
Andy leaps to his feet, whirling around wildly, searching for something he does not even know. He tries to look past the familiar grounds and buildings, the people he sees everyday ... but there is nothing else to be seen. Just the campus and students and a bright Autumn sky with nothing out of the ordinary.  
  
Except he still has goosebumps on the nape of his neck.  
  
It takes a minute to calm down, to walk away from the tree and scold himself for being silly and imagining ridiculous things.  
  
But it does not feel so ridiculous when, just as he is walking inside the Music building, he clearly hears a name whispered from right behind him.  
  
A name he has not heard in what feels like a lifetime: 'Sunho...'  
  
The voice is soft and, above all, familiar; like the haunting melody of a song he has heard once long ago.  
  
There is no one there when he turns around.

~***~

'What do you do with a stalker?' Andy asks his friends nonchalantly, a few days later.  
  
His question is met with a number of simultaneous mischievous responses ('Give them the finger', 'Kick them in the balls and run away' and 'Give them what they want - a quickie against the wall' from Dongwan, Eric and Minwoo respectively) and one serious reply ('Report them to the police' from Hyesung who is looking genuinely concerned).  
  
The next couple of minutes is predictably spent with his friends criticising each others' answers while Andy is torn between laughing and struggling to hide how serious he has been.  
  
It is finally Hyesung who extracts himself from the argument (which is currently at the point where Dongwan and Eric are laughingly accusing Minwoo of having a perverted fetish for walls) and pays attention to Andy.  
  
'Is someone giving you trouble? Is it serious?'  
  
'No, no,' replies Andy quickly. 'It was just a random question. Was wondering how you'd reply...'  
  
Eric laughs. 'That's good. 'Cause clearly Minwoo is not the person you should be taking such advice from.'  
  
'Yah, what's wrong with my advice?!' Minwoo looks offended.   
  
Andy tries to intervene, seeing that this little discussion he brought up is going out of hand, but it is too late.  
  
'Who has a  _quickie_  with their own  _stalker_ , dumbass?'  
  
'Think what you want, Eric-ah, but giving someone what they want is a good way of getting them off your back, once and for all.'  
  
'And if they keep coming back for more  _quickies_? Hmm?'  
  
'Er ... well, then, I guess you should...'  
  
'...date your own stalker? Or become quickie buddies?'  
  
Hyesung rolls his eyes and smacks Dongwan who has almost collapsed laughing at the argument. Andy sighs and turns away.  _Well, that was helpful_ , he thinks dryly to himself.  
  
Much later, however, while he is on the way home, he finds himself thinking about Minwoo's words again: give them what they want and they will leave you alone...  
  
Is that true, he wonders.  
  
There are two problems, though. On one hand, he has absolutely no idea what they want and, on the other...   
  
He has not even seen, let alone knows, who "they" are ... though they seem to know him.   
  
And that, above everything else, frightens him most.

~***~

Andy spends the next few days constantly looking over his shoulder. His friends grow concerned and Hyesung, again, asks him if someone is really giving him trouble. Andy tries to reassure them, but he remains paranoid and fearful.  
  
He often feels someone there with him, watching him, whispering that name. Only, there never is anyone there when he turns to look.  
  
He almost -  _almost_ \- asks his friends whether they believed in the supernatural, but considering how the latest episode of Andy Lee Trying to Seek Helpful Advice from Hyungs turned out, he holds himself back. (Also, it is probably not a good idea to test Hyesung's reaction to such an inquiry.)  
  
He has never counted himself as one with a weak heart, but on the day he finds himself walking alone to the piano room after his classes to practice for his Beethoven assignment, he cannot deny the trickle of fear in his blood. He has casually asked if any of his friends can accompany him, but they all have either work or their own assignments to take care of.   
  
Andy has to force himself to make the long lonely trek to the practice room.  
  
His spirits lift slightly when he hears a gentle melody flowing out of the piano room when he turns into that corridor. His face breaks into a relieved smile at the thought that he does not have to be there alone; even a stranger's presence is more welcome than solitude.  
  
The tune is familiar, a song he has definitely heard before, but try as he might, he cannot say exactly which song it is. As he hurries to the door, his mind picks through famous pieces of Chopin, Mozart, Schumann, Arrau, Rachmaninoff and numerous others, trying to place this particular piece but he can think of none.  
  
Yet, Andy can swear that he has heard this music several times before.  
  
The melody comes to a mellow halt just as he pushes open the door. 'Excuse me, but may I -?' Andy stops dead. His bag slithers off his shoulder to the floor as he numbly steps inside the practice room, looking around. There is sunlight filtering through the high windows, bathing the three grand pianos inside with hues of the late afternoon gold and throwing their shadows across the wood panelled floor.  
  
The piano benches are empty and everything else is still, except a gentle hum in the air, the echo of the last piano note still fading away.  
  
Andy almost turns tail and runs, no longer caring about projects or grades, but he is stopped by a quiet murmur of, 'You dropped your bag, Sunho.'  
  
Then he finally sees him, a tall figure to his left, standing a few feet away and holding out his black messenger bag. Andy stares at him, his heart still beating loudly. He is a young man, seemingly around Andy's age, dressed in worn jeans and a tee shirt, with long black hair falling into eyes just as dark. His stare is piercing and his face unsmiling and yet ... there is something familiar about this man, just like the notes of that song Andy heard not two minutes ago.  
  
'Was it you playing the piano?' is the first thing that comes out of Andy's lips. He cannot even recall forming the question.  
  
The man gives him a look, as if trying to read Andy's mind. 'Yes.'  
  
'But how did you -' Andy stops himself, not knowing how to ask.  _How does one move from a piano to the other side of the room within a second?_  
  
When Andy remains silent, the man takes a step forward, indicating the object he is still holding. 'Your bag, Sunho.'  
  
'Right.' Still feeling like his world has tipped off its axis, Andy quickly relieves the stranger of his messenger bag. His fingers brush against the man's hand as he takes the strap; the skin is pale and cool to the touch. It sends a chill through Andy.   
  
Andy turns away, still intending to leave and come back to his assignment some other day - preferably at a time when the creepy pianist who apparently can teleport is not there - when, a little belatedly, something else hits home.  
  
Very slowly, Andy turns back. The man is still there, right where he left him, and his dark eyes has never left the shorter man.   
  
'... What did you call me?'

~***~

The atmosphere is heavy, the silence oppressive and not even all the golden sunrays streaming inside can lift the apprehension off Andy's chest as he stares at the stranger. The man gazes back calmly, not saying a word. His eyes are unreadable, almost empty.  
  
'I said, what did you call me?' Andy repeats his question lowly, daring to take a step towards the man. His heart is pounding, so loud he fears it can be heard, but all thoughts of running away have left him now. He needs to know.  
  
The stranger tilts his head a little, his expression like stone. 'I called you by your name...'  
  
Andy's hands ball into fists, not out of anger, but to keep his fear from showing. 'No one ... no one has called me that in years... How did you even know?'  
  
The answer throws him off guard: 'You told me.'  
  
There is utter silence in the room. Andy cannot move, cannot speak, and cannot even think. He stares at the man, eyes wide, until the man looks away from him and walks quietly over to one of the pianos. His lips are pulled down in a frown as he takes a seat.  
  
'You don't even remember, do you...?' His voice comes out bitter, laced with disappointment.  
  
Andy's breath comes out choked. 'Who - who are you?'  
  
The man sighs and looks at Andy with those hollow eyes of his. Only, they do not seem so hollow anymore. They are filling up now, with anger, sadness, disappointment and something else hard to define.  
  
'You hurt me, Sunho ... Though, at least, you finally see me now.'   
  
Before Andy can process his last words, his fingers begin to move over the ivory keys, coaxing out that beautiful melody from the instrument again, the one Andy heard earlier. The notes ring through the air, soft and melancholic; nothing composed by Schumann or Rachmaninoff or anyone else Andy has thought of before, but they are as sharp and familiar as a childhood memory...  
  
And then it strikes him, as harshly as a bolt of lightning. He feels like the breath has been knocked out of his lungs and with a soft gasp, he turns his eyes on the stranger, who is watching him even as his fingers ghost over the piano keys.  
  
Andy takes a step back, feeling weak in the knees.  
  
'Choongjae...?'

~***~

(There had been a boy in the school music room the first time eleven-year-old Lee Sunho, the new transfer student, had gone in there.   
  
He had been put off to find the room occupied. He had specifically gotten permission from his head teacher to practise the piano alone for an hour after school every Friday. His family had moved to Seoul to further his education and he had fully intended to make good use of it, especially in music.   
  
So, when he found the boy hunched over the piano keys, he had intended to (nicely) ask him to leave. Never mind that he was new and this boy was probably his sunbae.  
  
But then the boy had looked up and Sunho had seen the tears shining in his dark sad eyes. What happened next had led Sunho to making his first - and closest - friend at his new school, helping to overcome the misery of leaving his childhood friends behind.  
  
The boy had told him his name - a funny one, Park Choongjae, which Sunho had forced himself not to giggle at - and why he had been crying. His stepmother, who on previous occasions had shown him that she had no love for him, had threatened to have him punished and thrown out of the house if he did not ace his upcoming music exam, but Choongjae was still making mistakes. He could not concentrate with the constant fear of his stepmother hanging over him and he was too afraid to tell his father, because he did not want to cause problems in their marriage.  
  
Sunho had suggested that Choongjae just drop music if he did not enjoy it, but the boy had looked shocked. 'But music is my favourite! It's the only thing I love at school.'  
  
Perhaps it was because Sunho felt sorry for the boy - that he was failing at something he loved to do just because of his fear of someone else - that he wanted to help him so badly in that moment.   
  
'I've been practising piano since I was seven. I could help you, if you'd like that.'  
  
The boy had stared at him, uncertain and disbelieving, but when Sunho had assured him of his seriousness, pure happiness like nothing Sunho had ever seen had filled his eyes and Choongjae had hugged the shorter boy, thanking him again and again.   
  
Sunho, as a rule, did not like being touchy feely, but that time, he had not minded and had just embraced Choongjae back and laughed with him.  
  
Even then, he had felt the sun rise on the dawn of a new and wonderful friendship.)

~***~

'...Choongjae?'  
  
The man's lips quirk slightly. 'Took you long enough.'  
  
Andy is still processing who he is seeing in front of his eyes. 'Choongjae ... Park Choongjae.'  
  
'I'm flattered you remember my full name. I thought you had put me behind you completely, though I've thought of you every day.'  
  
Andy can feel his body going weak, the sudden memories and emotions drilling through him too much to handle. He stumbles over to the nearest piano, the one Choongjae is sitting at, and grips the smooth black surface for support. The other man watches him with those heavy dark eyes of his, so familiar and so strange at the same time. Andy can recognise them now, can remember a time when he used to see them every single day; but there is something different about them now. Back then, those eyes had smiled at him and had been filled with warmth and love. They have never held the reproach, the anger and the hurt that they are sporting now.  
  
Choongjae lifts his fingers off the keys. The piano notes lull away into nothing once more, but the silence that follows is worse.  
  
'Do you remember this song?' The question is sudden, demanding.  
  
Andy can only nod dumbly. Choongjae looks pointedly at him, waiting, and after several seconds, the former ventures very quietly,  
  
'It's the first song we composed together ... to celebrate you ... acing your music exam.'   
  
The memories are coming back to him vividly now: how they had worked together to prepare Choongjae for his exam, how Choongjae had come running to him with joy on his face after he passed, how Andy - Sunho - had spontaneously suggested they make their own music piece to celebrate it ... and the long days they had spent together, coming up with the melody and playing it together, and then every day after that...  
  
The smile on the other man's face is mirthless, yet sad. 'We promised we would play this song for each other on our birthdays every year.'  
  
Andy finds himself silenced again, at the reminder of a promise he had long since broken.  _One_  of the promises he had broken...  
  
It is as if Choongjae has heard his thoughts. 'I waited for you, you know.' His voice is cutting, like ice. 'I waited for you every single day since you left.' He waits for Andy to speak, to explain himself, but there is nothing the latter can say in reply.  
  
He had broken that promise himself, of his own choice.

~***~

(If only there was a friendship that could last a lifetime, to remain as it was until they carried it to their graves; a friendship that kept steady and true, even as the seasons changed around it. That was what Sunho had wished for when he met the boy in the music room of his new school. As the days had passed and their passion for music brought them closer to each other, he had believed that he had finally received his wish.  
  
He believed it for the next few years, as they spent their middle school and high school years together. He had never dreamed anything could change.  
  
In the beginning, he had tried to ignore the creeping change. Convincing himself that everything was just the same had seemed easier than turning around and facing the truth. He had kept it up for a long time, fighting down the uneasiness in his heart, forcing himself to believe that he can see their friendship through to the end.  
  
But it was not to be so. He could keep lying to himself, but there was no way he could not see that Choongjae's feelings for him had slowly started to change. There was a different light in his eyes when he looked at Sunho, a shy tilt to his mouth in the smiles he gave him, and a lingering affection to his touches when he would hug him. Sunho could see the emotions Choongjae tried to hide when Sunho spoke to girls, and hear the choked sadness in Choongjae's voice when Sunho cancelled on him to go on dates. Above all, it was hard to ignore the feelings Choongjae gave off when Sunho had, on more than one occasion, hinted that Choongjae should find a girlfriend.  
  
It came as little surprise when, after they were fifteen, Choongjae had pulled Sunho aside and confessed.  
  
He just wanted Sunho to know, he had said. He did not have expectations or hopes, just the need for his best friend to know the truth about how he felt.   
  
Sunho had stared at him, not knowing how to reply. He had feared this day would come. Why couldn't they have just kept on being friends, without making things complicated?  
  
Choongjae had looked at him and understood. 'I'm not asking you to return my feelings, Sunho. If nothing else, I want us to keep being friends. But not like earlier, where I had to spend every moment trying to hide everything. I want you to accept my friendship - me - knowing the truth...'  
  
He had tried to accept it, really he had. He had smiled at Choongjae and told him he could. Even gave him a hug to prove it. But ... it just had not been possible for Sunho.  
  
He could not go back to the old days with Choongjae, back when things had been simple. Though his friend had kept his word and kept everything between them normal, being just like how a best friend should be, Sunho could not look at him the same way ever again. There was a difference between suspecting that Choongjae had feelings for him and Choongjae outright admitting to it - and Sunho could not turn a blind eye to it.  
  
He started feeling guilty every time he spoke to someone he was interested in, wondering how Choongjae would feel about it; would he feel sad and heartbroken that Sunho never talked to him like that? Moreover, it became steadily harder for Sunho to keep interacting with Choongjae as well. He kept imagining that his friend looked at him with something more than friendship in his eyes, that Choongjae's touches were more frequent and inappropriate than should be.   
  
Perhaps, in truth, everything was just in Sunho's head. But in the end, he just could not see his best friend in the same light after his confession.  
  
It came almost as a relief when his parents decided to move the family to the US for a few years, deciding that higher education in the States would be better for their son. He had not put up a fight at all, unlike the time he was told they were moving to Seoul. For Sunho, America had been an escape from the tension he had been living in, away from the eggshells he was walking on around Choongjae.  
  
Despite everything, it had still saddened him to break the news to Choongjae. His best friend had tried to take the news well, but those dark pools of his eyes had not hidden the sadness within, or the tears that came to them.   
  
'You will come back to Seoul again, won't you?' It had been asked in a whisper, broken and scared.  
  
For an instant, those words had crumbled away the wall Sunho had been unconsciously building between them. He had looked up at Choongjae and seen the boy he first saw in that lonely music room, the scared boy whose eyes had been calling for help - the boy he had first accepted into his heart.  
  
Next moment, he had been hugging him, fiercely whispering that of course he would come back to Seoul, to Choongjae.  
  
'You're my best friend, Jae, I'll never leave you behind. It's only for a few years; I'll come back and find you again.'  
  
'Really?'  
  
'I promise.'   
  
Sunho had pulled away and looked into Choongjae's eyes. He had seen the sadness and love in them and how Choongjae still tried to smile for him. The sight of it tugged at his heart and, he did not know what possessed him to do it - maybe it was the realisation that Choongjae would always love him and always be his friend, though he would never receive from Sunho what he really wanted in his heart - but, without thinking, he found himself pulling the other boy close against him.  
  
It had been chaste, just the simple touch of lips against lips and warm breath mixing together, but Sunho had felt the electricity between them and immediately realised what a mistake he had made in his moment of bad judgement. Yet, in his shock he had been unable to move away and his lips remained on Choongjae's frozen ones for what seemed forever.  
  
They had not talked about it afterwards, but he missed neither the look on Choongjae's face nor what his unexpected kiss must have implied.   
  
Five years later, when Sunho had come back to Seoul at the age of twenty under the name of Andy Lee, he had still remembered his last moments with his old best friend and the promise he had made.  
  
However, he had not found the courage within him to go back to him. He did not know what kind of expectations he had given Choongjae with his final mistake, but he did not think he can meet them, either. Nor did he think he could bear to see the other's disappointment if Sunho - now Andy - were to break his heart for a second time.  
  
_How do you tell someone you gave them a kiss you never meant?_ )

~***~

It has been three years since Andy came back and tried to move on from the friendship he never tried to regain, but the very subject of that friendship is right in front of him now, glaring at him.  
  
'I waited, Sunho. I thought of you every day. Five years later when I heard your family came back, I went to find you, but you weren't there. And then I told myself you would come to find me, just like you promised, and I waited ... I waited for three years.'  
  
Andy cannot even look at him now, torn apart as he is with guilt and shame. 'I broke my promise. I'm sorry, Jae, I really am -'  
  
The other man's eyes harden at the old nickname. He looks down at the piano, grazing his palm over the cool ivory.   
  
'I have no excuse, Choongjae,' whispers Andy, following the movement of his pale fingers. 'It's my fault. I broke my promise on my own. I was too afraid, too much of a coward to go back to you.'  
  
'What did you expect?' Choongjae refuses to look at him. 'That I'd confess my undying love for you?'   
  
Andy keeps silent, not knowing how to say, and that is all the answer the other man needs.  
  
'Eight years ago, I confessed what I felt for you, but I never demanded anything back, Lee Sunho ... I told you all I wanted was your acceptance, for us to be friends like we used to but without my having to hide anything.' He sighs, a sound deep and sad as his dark eyes. 'I can see now you never could accept me for myself...'  
  
Andy blurts out, 'I tried to, Choongjae, I wanted to so badly! It was my problem I couldn't, but I wanted us to be the way we were, and maybe we could have, but that night, when I came to say goodbye to you-' He abruptly stops, stricken.  
  
Choongjae looks up at him with a small, mocking smile. 'I wondered if you would bring that up on your own,' he drawls. He is on his feet and right in front of Andy in a moment, looking down at him. 'It makes no difference now, so will you finally tell me why you did it? All that time I spent waiting, I told myself it was probably a mistake, something you never meant ... but before the end, I want to hear the reason from your own mouth.'  
  
'I ... I don't ...' Andy looks up at the demanding eyes boring into his own. 'I always wondered that myself,' he finally murmurs. 'I don't know why I did it. At that moment, I just wanted to...'  
  
He expects to see that heartbroken bitterness in Choongjae's eyes that he had always imagined he would see, but there is none of that there. Just acceptance and, curiously, relief.   
  
After a moment, Choongjae lets out a breath. He is almost smiling now. 'Thank you, Sunho. You don't know what a relief it is to finally know, after all these years of wondering. I can leave in peace now.'  
  
The last remark catches Andy's attention. 'What do you mean, leave in peace?' He frowns at Choongjae, sudden concern and anxiety coming over him as a few other realisations sink in. 'W-wait ... you said earlier it doesn't make a difference now ... and something about "before the end" ... what did you mean?'  
  
Choongjae's face has changed. The darkness in his eyes has lessened, and the previous hurt and anger are now muted. Instead, there is a gentle lightness about his face and warmth in his expression as he gazes down at Andy, his lips curled up just the slightest.   
  
'I'm glad I finally found you again, Sunho. I didn't want to leave without seeing you.'  
  
'Wait, wait, I don't understand,' stammers Andy.  
  
'I was so afraid we wouldn't be able to speak earlier. It was such a relief when you could finally see me...'  
  
Andy feels a chill through his bones and he gapes up at Choongjae, thinking back to the past few days and the familiar presence he felt by his shoulder and the whispers of his name said from behind him. His heart hammers in chest, but he remains where he is and tentatively reaches out a hand. His fingers brush against the pale cool skin of Choongjae's cheek, solid and real, and yet...  
  
'Are you really here, Choongjae?'  
  
'Not for long. But I'm happy we finally got to hear each other out, Sunho. I'm glad I finally understand you, even though things did not turn out how I wanted them to. I never regretted meeting you and if I could relive those days again, I would make a few different choices so we could have remained friends till now.'  
  
'Choongjae,' says Andy urgently, but the other man speaks over him,  
  
'I wanted you to know that. That's why I tried so hard to find you the past few days. I wanted us to properly say the goodbye we couldn't say before, and to ...' He steps forward and gently runs his knuckles against Andy's jawbone. '...to let you know that I forgive you.'  
  
'Stop, Choongjae, please,' Andy whispers, his eyes wide with dawning realisation. He grips Choongjae's wrist, feeling the cool skin beneath his fingers, but suddenly, it doesn't feel so solid anymore. 'No, no, please, wait...'  
  
Choongjae presses his other hand gently against Andy's cheek, so that he is cupping his face. He smiles a soft rueful smile. 'I wish I could ... But my time is almost up. I'm glad we got to meet again.'  
  
'Where are you?' asks Andy desperately, his voice rising to almost a shout. His eyes are prickling at the corners and he tries to blink them away. 'Tell me where you are, Choongjae, where you really are and I'll find you immediately. I'll go find you and save you and I'll make up for all these years I wasted -'  
  
'It's too late.' Soft fingers card through his hair and run down the side of his face. 'I have to go now, Sunho.'  
  
'No!'  
  
The dark eyes that stare into him will haunt him for the rest of his life. 'To this day, I love you, Lee Sunho. And ... just once more ... would you feel like kissing me again?'  
  
Andy cannot speak, his vision blurring, and Choongjae takes his silence as a yes.   
  
It feels like the first time they touched like this, years and years ago when Sunho had acted on impulse. It is still chaste, still soft, still electrifying and Choongjae's touch is so familiar that eight years ago seem like just yesterday.   
  
Then they are breaking apart when another voice intrudes from outside - Minwoo, who has dropped in after dance practice and loudly asks Andy, 'Hey, were you talking to someone, I could hear your voice two corridors away!' - and Andy turns to look for Choongjae again, but there is no one there anymore.  
  
It is just the faded whisper of a piano and Andy Lee under the dwindling golden sunlight with nothing but the ghostly touch of a kiss still lingering on his lips.

~***~

The team of doctors and nurses rush into the private ward and hustle the agitated middle aged man away from the bed and out of the door. He walks up and down the corridor, feeling as if he has aged several years over the past few weeks. His mind not once leaves the thought of his comatose son inside the ward and he prays as he walks, praying for a miracle.  
  
In his hand he is clutching a crumpled piece of paper on which the young man, unable to speak, had written his last message to his father.   
  
_Please, pray for me. I cannot die yet. I still have to see him, I need to say goodbye_.  
  
The feeling comes over him not long afterwards and he stops walking, feeling chilled to the bone. The strength leaves him and he has to sit down on one of the waiting benches outside, gasping. He can sense it, he just  _knows_  that all hope has ended today and he can almost feel, if not hear, the electronic monitor inside flat lining.   
  
When the doctors step outside minutes later, he does not look at their faces nor listen to the gentle, 'I'm sorry, Mr Park...'  
  
He brushes past them into the ward and takes his son's cold hand in his own. He looks down at the serene face, looking to be almost asleep, and he weeps when he sees the parched lips curled up at the corners in a ghostly smile.  
  
_I pray you received your last wish._

**Author's Note:**

> The original plan was to end the fic with just Andy, but I figured an additional scene was required to shed more light on what exactly happened to Junjin and how he was able to meet Andy. 
> 
> (I think I might have made it too vague, though? For reference, Junjin was having an out-of-body-experience while in a coma, and I just ran with that idea and used it very liberally.)


End file.
